


the misadventures of arthur and wardrick

by supinetothestars



Series: last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams 'verse [5]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Team Red, dumbasses being dumbasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supinetothestars/pseuds/supinetothestars
Summary: Wade would say the plan went wrong, but that would imply there was ever a plan to begin with. The reality was that the week had been a quiet one and it was a Friday night and Wade had found a gang den, so he and Matt went out and found a little trouble, because one of the many things they had in common was that they both got itchy if they went too long without a fight.





	the misadventures of arthur and wardrick

Wade would say the plan went wrong, but that would imply there was ever a plan to begin with. The reality was that the week had been a quiet one and it was a Friday night and Wade had found a gang den, so he and Matt went out and found a little trouble, because one of the many things they had in common was that they both got itchy if they went too long without a fight. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t try to come up with a plan, anyway. _ Try _ being the key word there.

“We should go in guns blazing,” Wade proposed, sitting on the couch in Matt’s apartment- they had finally established that he didn’t actually live in the courtroom. He was sipping from the tea Matt had offered him as slowly and loudly as possible because he wanted to see if he could train Matt not to drink tea via negative rewards, like one of Pavlov’s dogs but in reverse. “Just shoot the place up and make a dash for it. Classic and simple. Can’t go wrong with the good ole’ guns blazing.”

“Or we could not,” Matt said absently, clinking things around on his counter and pouring himself some more tea. Wade blew bubbles in his own cup as loudly as possible. Why was it so hard to get this man not to drink chamomile, anyway? It’s chamomile! It tastes like boiled grass that’s thinking very hard about mint! What’s the appeal?

“It’s not chamomile,” Matt responded. Had Wade spoken out loud? “It’s a calming herbal. Clears my head. Helps me focus.” 

Wade stared at his own tea and wondered if all that was a fancy way of saying Matt was drinking weed tea.

“It’s not weed,” Matt corrected. “It’s a cleansing herbal.”

Didn’t Catholics dislike weed? Wasn’t that, like, a commandment? Thou shalt not smoke weed-

“It’s not- look, can we focus here? Back on track. We need a plan of action.”

“I have a plan,” Wade said absently, stirring his tea with one gloved finger and watching dried blood crumble off the leather into the brown liquid. “Action- wait, no, dammit, you ruined it. Can you start over? Just forget the last ten seconds ever happened and say ‘We need a plan of attack’ and I’ll work from there.”

“Wade, focus.”

“I thought I proposed a plan of attack, Red,” Wade said, momentarily forgetting that he’d gotten blood into his tea and taking a sip. He choked violently and set the cup down hard enough to spill it across the coffee table. “-guns blazing. A classic.”

“I’m not going to fight with guns, Wade.” Matt threw a kitchen towel at Wade’s head. “Clean that up.”

Wade dabbed halfheartedly at the spill. “Maaaaaatttyyyyyyyyyy, come on. Can’t we use just a _ little _ guns blazing? Ole’ Der and Mur are feeling neglected.”

“Der and Mur?”

Wade patted the two guns on his belt fondly. “That’s what I’ve named them, you like? Mur and Der. Got the idea from Thor: Ragnarok.”

“You disgust me.”

“Sure thing, sweetcheeks.”

Matt finished pouring his weed tea and walked over to the couch, balancing his cup in one hand while he clipped and unclipped the Daredevil batons with another, flipping them around in his hand like a high schooler toying with a pencil during a particularly easy test.. Wade gazed longingly out the window at the city outside in all its glory, tinted purple and blue by the billboard. He wondered how long they’d be stuck in here planning while he could be out there in New York doing other things (or people).

“You said this den is under an office building,” Matt said. “How do we get into it? It’ll be locked a dozen ways with machine guns and guard dogs.”

“My cat’ll eat the guards,” Wade said, and then remembered with desolation that he’d left his cat their apartment to protect a kitten he'd adopted recently. Said kitten was a tiny little fluff ball, dammit, she couldn’t just be left without supervision. He’d given his cat a very firm talking to earlier about protecting her new sibling, but something about the way she spent the whole talk licking her own armpit gave him the impression she hadn’t grasped the seriousness of the situation.

“I’m not killing the guards.” Matt objected.

“You’re no fun.”

“Maybe I’m not fun, but I’m also not a murderer. It’s a compromise I can live with.”

Wade sulked. Matt sipped his tea and brooded broodily. Wade had an idea and perked up excitedly.

“Here’s an idea,” Wade said. “We go in civilian, get captured, interrogated, and then once they bring us out of the interrogation room to do some MORE interrogation with electroshock therapy, we kick their asses and blow up the drug store in the basement.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best plan.”

“You’re right,” Wade said. “It doesn’t. Would you like to come out with an alternative? Better yet, would you like to come out? I see you in that closet, Matty-boi. Can’t stay represso-depresso forever.”

“I’m not going to get _ captured _ ,” Matt said firmly. “The whole point of planning is so we _ don’t _ get captured. That would ruin the point of this planning session.”

“Then we don’t plan, and there’s no point to ruin,” Wade offered.  
Matt scoffed. “Like I’d agree to that.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Three Hours Later**

**Matt**

“I didn’t mean to end up here, I swear,” Matt said, adjusting his massive sunglasses with the hand not chained to the desk for the fifth time that minute. “I just- it’s all a big confusion, I’m really sorry- you’re, like, the CIA, right? I’m Arthur Merencamp, I swear, I work at a grocer down the road- look, I’ve seen Men in Black, I know how this ends. Please don’t wipe my memory or anything- my wife would be so upset, really, I’m supposed to be back home in an hour to drive our niece to her photography class.”

Matt was wearing oversized jeans and a sweater to cover up the Daredevil suit and was frantically trying to figure out how he’d been talked into this whole shebang. Had Wade spiked his tea? He’d like to think Wade was better than that, but, well, you never knew with Wade. You thought he was just being a stand-up guy giving you some nice shirts as a Christmas gift and then you wear them to a party and find out through Foggy that they actually say “I’ve Got a Dig Bick (You that read wrong) (You read that wrong too)”. 

The man across the desk wasn’t impressed. Matt was a little affronted; he thought Arthur Merencamp was a rather clever cover story given he’d only had three minutes of being roughhoused by bulky men with nightsticks to come up with it. The interrogator leaned forward and grabbed Matt’s chin with one hand, digging his nails in roughly. Matt was awkwardly forced into a partial stand to prevent the skin on his face from being torn off. 

“Tell me who you work for,” the man snarled. 

“I just came down here to get some cool architecture photos, I swear,” Matt babbled, trying to remember what he’d said his last name was. It’d had an M and ended with ‘camp’, but he couldn’t remember what came between. “My niece- she’s a darling, she’s taking this photography class, but it’s not going well, but- she’s such a darling, I just want her to get an A- see, the man I came here with, his name’s- his name’s-” shit, what’s a believable name- “-Wardrick- he’s my brother, he’s Nancy’s father, he knows I’ve done some photography projects, so he asked me to do him a favor and drove me down here- that’s all, really.”

“Tell me who you work for,” the man interrupted, “or I’ll stick your head in a barrel of dirty water and then electrocute the barrel until you don’t remember your own mother’s name.”

Why did Matt agree to this, again?

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Wade**

“Who do you work for?” The man snarled, each word displaying a row of cracked or missing teeth where his jaw should be. Where did they find these guys, anyway? Did they put an ad on Craigslist for muscley men with hooked noses, missing teeth, and a killer Ivan the Terrible impression?

“Why, are you paying?” Wade said in a sultry voice, and batted his eyelashes before remembering that he had on sunglasses, so there wasn’t really any point. “Because I’m kind of a magnificent pole dancer, if I may say so myself.”

“What happened to your skin?” The man demanded, and Wade paused a moment to allow for a vivid fantasy of watching his cat gouge this man’s eyeballs out with her claws.

“Rude,” Wade responded. “Didn’t Mama ever teach you not to bully burn victims?”

“How did you find this den?” 

Wade decided to nickname the man Vlad. It seemed suitable.

“Well,” he said. “It all started when me and some friends- Phil and Stuart, they’re called- rented out Caesar’s Palace for a little while, because our other friend- his name’s Doug, he’s a real standup guy- was getting married, you know, we wanted to have a little fun before the deed was done, you know? Well, we didn’t have an orgy- though I did suggest it- but, see, we had a few drinks on the roof, and got a little tipsy, you know. How it goes. And then we wake up the next morning and we can’t remember a thing. And Doug’s mattress is gone, and so is Doug. He’s gone. Can’t find him anywhere, and there’s a baby in the closet and a tiger in the bathroom, and I’m missing a tooth-” Wade grinned at Vlad, showing where one of the men with nightsticks had smashed out his tooth in the earlier scuffle. “See? Oh, and Doug’s mattress is missing, did I mention that?”

Vlad snarled. “Tell me the truth or I will cut your fingers off one at a time and feed them to your friend in the next room,” he said.

So Matt’s in the next room. That’s good to know. Thanks, Vlad.

“Woah, there, easy tiger,” Wade said, putting up his free hand in a gesture of submission and rattling the other on its chain. “Hey, I’m telling this story how it is. It’ll all come together in the end, I swear. Roll with me here.”

Vlad gave Wade a squinty-eyed, threatening look, and Wade just tapped his foot impatiently. “You with me, buddy?”

“Continue,” Vlad grunted, and Wade grinned. Who says that memorizing the entire script of the _ Hangover _ will never pay off now, Cable?

  
  
  


**Matt**

From what Matt could hear Wade seemed to be establishing an understanding between him and his interrogator, but Matt was having no such luck. In the last two minutes his own interrogator, Poe, had threatened him with waterboarding, electroshock therapy, beating, having his nails torn off and fed to his brother Wardrick, and- here was the real kicker- blindness. Sorry, Poe, but Danny Rand’s father’s poor company safety policies beatcha to it.

“So this niece of yours,” Poe said softly, drumming his fingers on the table, “she’s young, yes?”

“She’s fifteen,” Matt said, resisting the urge to rub at his neck. Poe had choked him a few minutes ago and the blood flow still wasn’t quite reestablished. “Wants to study journalism and nature photography in college. She’s really the sweetest. Gonna do great things someday, you know?”

“What if I told you,” Poe mused, “That in five minutes, I could have a man at the door of your niece's house with lighter fluid and a box of matches.”

Matt stiffened in an affectation of horror. “Oh, man, you don’t- look, Poe, I said I was sorry- I’m really sorry I came down here, I didn't realize the C.I.A. had a base or whatever down here- look, just let me go, please, I swear I’ll never bother you aga-”

Matt faltered. Had Wade just said the words _ Mike Tyson _ and _ tiger _ in the same sentence? 

**Wade**

“So Mike Tyson is in your apartment,” Vlad said. He was looking a little suspicious at this point. “And he wants his tiger back?”

“He wants his tiger back,” Wade reaffirmed. “So Stu finds some of the drugs- the ones we didn’t use- and drugs it so it doesn’t rip our faces off. But we get in the Mercedes and halfway to the mansion, it wakes up and claws the hell outta Stu. So we get our asses outta that Mercedes, and now we’re stuck on the highway with a tiger clawing up the most expensive car we’ve ever seen, and we still can’t find Doug, and we’re all still beaten to hell by Leslie Chow and his crowbar, so- well.” Wade shook his head regretfully.

“What happened next?” Vlad asked eagerly, leaning forward in his chair. “Did you get eaten by the tiger?”

“We had to push the Mercedes all the way to the mansion,” Wade said. “And then Mike- real stand up guy, really, even if he didn’t help us return the tiger- shows us some security footage so we can find Doug. And so we drive away, to find him- because the wedding is tomorrow, and Tracy’s really hounding is about Doug at this point, and this massive van crashes into our car.”

“No!” Vlad gasps. 

“_ Yes _ ! It’s Leslie Chow! Turns out he’s a gangster, and he says that we stole $80,000 dollars from him and he’ll only give Doug back if we give him back the $80,000, but we don’t _ have _ the $80,000. So, you see, Vlad, we’re in a real pickle now.”

“A real pickle, yes.”

**Matt**

What the fuck, Wade.

**Wade**

“So he gave you Doug back?” Vlad asked, leaning forward in his chair with an enraptured expression.

“No, no, man, it was the wrong Doug! It was a completely different Doug!”

“_ No.” _

“Yes!!”

**Matt**

“I see through your lies, Arthur Merencamp,” Poe snarled, grabbing a fistful of Matt’s hair and holding up his head. 

So that’s what Matt said his name was. Good to know.

“I don’t see how you could,” Matt said glibly. He didn’t really care enough to keep up the acting anymore. “Seeing as I’m not lying.”

At this point, Matt was getting kind of invested in Wade’s story. Where was Doug? Were they going to get back in time for the wedding? What would happen to baby Carlos and Jade?

“I will peel off your skin and boil it and then feed it to your brother as a soup,” Poe declared.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, buddy,” Matt mumbled. Poe reached into his pocket and withdrew a key.. Whatcha doing with that key, Poe?

Poe unlocked Matt’s cuff and manhandled him towards the door.

“Uh, where you taking me, Poe?”

“To the real interrogation room,” Poe said darkly. Matt decided he’d had enough of Poe and his bad attitude. It was time to blow this popsicle stand.

**Wade**

“So we’re up there, on the roof, and Doug’s sunburnt as a ripe tomato, and the mattress is still sitting there on the roof-”

Vlad narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said it was on the statue.”

“No, no, I said the floor,” Wade said, his mouth suddenly dry. “It was on the floor of the roof.”

“No, you said statue,” Vlad said, his voice menacing. “Which one is it, Alan? The floor or the statue? I begin to think you are not entirely honest with me, Alan.”

“I am, I swear!” Wade protested. “I’m totally honest- come on, Vlad, you’ve been with me thus far, let me finish the story, it’s a killer-”

“You lied to me,” Vlad snarled. “Do you know what we do to liars here? We crush their fingers into a fine paste like peanut butter-”

Vlad was interrupted by a quickly stifled scream and thumping noise from the room next door. Vlad froze and stared at the offending wall.

“Oh, man, Vlad,” Wade said. “I’ve gotta go, that’s my signal. It’s been fun, really.” He stood and started tugging at the handcuffs.

“What the- what do you think you’re doing?” Vlad stood so quickly he knocked over his chair. 

Wade reached down to his imprisoned wrist and broke his fingers, one at a time, until his hand was floppy enough that he could pull it out of the cuff. Once free, he snapped his bones back into place and then glanced up at Vlad with a cheery expression.

Vlad stared at Wade’s hand, took a deep breath, and started to scream.

**Matt**

Matt, standing over the unconscious body of Poe with his oversized outerwear discarded to leave only the Daredevil suit below, fastened his cowl into place. With a running jump, he hurled himself at the door and smashed it off its hinges, crashing into the opposite wall of the hallway in the wreckage of the door. He straightened up and turned to see Wade standing behind him with his arms crossed in front of the open door to his own interrogation room.

“Doors are unlocked, dipshit,” Wade said. Matt could smell blood splattered across Wade’s torso, but the faint heartbeat audible inside the interrogation room told him that no one was dead.

“Took you long enough,” Matt responded, and tugged the Daredevil batons out of his belt. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Wade whooped, and together the two of them turned to the hallway’s open door and charged. 

**Two Hours Later**

**Wade**

“I think that went pretty well,” Wade said. “I mean, Vlad and I really hit it off, I think.” 

“Yeah, well, while you were spouting some utter bullshit about tigers and police tasers, I was getting choked by a buffoon with a superiority complex.” Matt was rubbing at the faint bruises tinging his neck.

“You were listening!” Wade crowed, delighted. He started digging through Matt’s fridge in search of ice-packs and beer, causing a loud crashing as he knocked over half the bottles and containers in there.

“I was not,” Matt muttered. “Please don’t be so loud, I have a headache.”

Wade found what he was looking for and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as Wade finished his beer and Matt finished his “cleansing herbal tea.” This silence was shattered by Matt speaking as if each word physically pained him.

“So, uh- what _ did _ happen to Doug?”

Wade, glancing up from where he’d been looking for phallic shapes in the carpet embroidery, gave Matt a look of utter delight. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> kudos please i crave acknowledgement
> 
> also credit to @fensandmarshes for helping to prompt this story


End file.
